Falling Down

Nothing says "Autumn" around where I live like grabbing the ride and hitting some nearby hills. Shit, within a mile of my house I've got a bunch of good ones with about everything you can ask for when it comes to hill skating. There's blind curves, serpentine double and triple drop hills that weave through area farm and forest land. And, of course, you've got a straightaway shooter like "The Hill that Really Killed the Dead Man that Dead Man's Hill is Named After Hill," pictured below.

Dead Man's Reeking Stinking Maggot Infested Rotted Entrails Hill

I mean, it's not San Francisco: these hills ain't actually gonna kill anybody and, despite the goofy names I've given them, I'm sure the reputation of your town's "Dead Man's Hill" is perfectly safe. And no one would ever bother shooting video of bombing my neighborhood hills--well, unless some total fucking douche bag ripped his head open or something. But, when the leaves start turning, the temperature starts nipping a bit, the breeze kicks up just enough to strew those leaves about, and those Sunday brews start tasting extra savory, I can't think of a better way to spend the afternoon. Or, even if I could, I'd probably be out skating these hills anyway. It's become kind of an annual rite of passage for me. One that serves as yet another metaphor for life that seem to abound in skating. It's about keeping things simple. Much like life, when it comes to hills, you just gotta get on the bitch and go... and of course hope you don't get hit by a car. One way or another, you'll get to the bottom. The idea is to avoid being called a "pussy" in the process. No matter how you look at it, though, everything seems to come together this time of year when it comes to skating. Whether it's the cold ones, my skateboard, or just me, things have to go down in the Fall, right? It's the way nature meant things to be.